


We're like PB&J

by winchysteria



Series: Destiel Drabbles [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Finally, M/M, Schmoop, dean winchester becomes emotionally stable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2173608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchysteria/pseuds/winchysteria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>inspired by fool-of-a-timelord on tumblr: "coldstone creamery has these new pb&j ice cream sandwiches and we all know Cas likes pb&j and we all know how dean likes random snacks and im imaging cas getting all blushy cause he remembered and dean getting all blushy when the hugs come into play and sam cracking up over these iDIOtS and i justt...???"</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're like PB&J

The first rule had been no drinking.

He knew he'd be able to do it again eventually, but not yet. And not whiskey. Beer, he could picture at barbecues and the beach, but whiskey would always smell like every barfight he'd had with any guy that had reminded him enough of his father. It made him want to gag.

The second rule had been no debauchery.

Mostly, he'd said that way because it just rolled off the tongue. What he really meant was no strip clubs, no sleazy bar crawls looking for a hookup, no putting his hands on the nearest thing that looked like it would make him feel good. It used to be release, but the past months made it a punishment. When he was back to himself, he could admit he wanted permanency. 

The third rule had been no destruction.

He said that one silently. It encompassed the alcohol and the sex, but everything else, too. No four hours of sleep in his jeans. No motel-room-hopping. No eating himself into heart attacks, no forcing himself to hunt until he couldn't stand, no pretending he felt fine, no denying. No pretending his only urges were the surface ones, the ones that had felt like fulfillment when he wore his black eyes. No more forcing people away because he thought his love would corrode them.

They hadn’t sounded so serious the first time he said them. He had bent over, forehead on Cas’ shoulder, and coughed ashes onto the lapels of that stupid trench coat. Things had been silent, almost peaceful, like falling action. He didn’t really know how to react when everyone lived through the climax of the story- didn’t know how to react at all to the bone-deep soreness of feeling again. But he felt like himself, and to prove it, he raised his head. “Well, everybody lived, so we have to celebrate. New rules, though. No drinking, no debauchery, and no-“ he waved a hand instead of finishing the sentence. “Fuck it, guys, let’s get ice cream.”

Weirdly enough, that had started something. Set a tone, as it were. That night, he startled a cashier at the Dairy Queen drive through, squeezed Cas’ shoulder as he went to bed, and fell asleep under the covers. If he was the kind of person who ate ice cream, he could be the kind of person who acknowledged his feelings and tried to take care of himself.

It wasn’t as weird as he thought it was going to be. They hunted, which was a lot like it used to be, and then they got ice cream- Baskin’ Robbin’s, McDonalds, tiny local places that also sold beef jerky and holographic keychains, wherever was closest. They went back to the bunker, which was also a lot like it used to be. Sometimes they would all go to sleep immediately. Sometimes he would make dinner and they’d all eat together, the three of them and anyone they’d invited back. Sometimes Cas would pull him down onto the couch to watch sci-fi shows or just to talk and they’d fall asleep on each other’s shoulders. There were days were nobody hunted, where they just did research or he took Cas for a drive and didn’t bother trying not to kiss him over the gearshift. He imagined himself piling all of these small things on top of each other like bricks, building something.

One day, they squashed an unpleasantly messy ghoul family, and as the only one who didn’t smell faintly of decay, Dean became the ice cream emissary. Sam, Cas, and a very bemused Krissy watched him come out of the Coldstone suspiciously- childish as the now-tradition was, it had been impossible not to develop a rather refined taste in frozen desserts. They didn’t like trusting anyone with their orders.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dean said, sitting carefully on the picnic bench next to Cas and spreading his bounty on the table. “I have good taste, okay? Sam, here’s some kind of low-fat monstrosity with Reese’s cups in it. Krissy, this is the most chocolatey thing you can get. And Cas- some asshole decided it was a good idea to make PB&J ice cream sandwiches, so I couldn’t not buy you one.”

Cas unwrapped it carefully, the tips of his ears turning a little pink, a soft smile spreading out on his face. “You remembered that.”

Dean tried not to blush and failed when Cas wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed, then left it there as they ate their ice cream. “‘Course I did,” he said, attempting to hide his smile behind his own paper cup of strawberry with brownie pieces.

Krissy snorted. “Of course I did,” she said in falsetto, picking a chunk of heath bar out of her ice cream. “They’re disgusting, aren’t they, Sam?”

Sam jumped when she elbowed him in the side. “Disgusting,” he said, grinning. “Soppy and gooey-eyed in their old age.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at the snickering pair across the table, then took a fingerful of peanut butter out of Cas’ sandwich and daubed it on the corner of his mouth. “Oh, wow, guys, look, seems like my boyfriend has something on his face. Better get that off!”

Dean leaned down and kissed him, slow and open-mouthed and not entirely acceptable for a public place. Sam groaned and Krissy hooted, but he could feel his feet touching the ground and Cas smiling into his lips and he felt secure, like what he’d been building was home.


End file.
